


Single Beds in San Diego

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Cuddling & Snuggling, Found Family, Gen, Hotels, M/M, Road Trips, Secret Relationship, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Vacation, buddie is hinted at, but emulate his behavior, but it's 98 percent found family, handful of mentions and a couple tiny kisses, hotel mishaps, learn from Buck's mistakes; dear readers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: Eddie and Buck take Chris on a weekend trip to San Diego. Buck books the hotel, and things go wrong. But it all works out in the end.
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 93
Kudos: 308





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I know this has been LONG awaited, but I'm finally in a position where I'll have time for regular updates, so here we are!

Days off? Approved. Bags? Packed. 

Eddie looks around the house, standing in the doorway and steps back onto the porch as he pulls the door closed and turns the key. 

Hotel room? Buck had sent him a screenshot of the confirmation number the other day. 

(“You’ve got enough to plan for this, packing for two and making sure Chris can skip school Friday afternoon,” he’d insisted a few weeks back. “I’ll take care of this part. You just be ready at 11 a.m., OK?”) 

He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder, crouches down to reach the handle on Chris’ tiny suitcase and heads for the Jeep parked in the driveway. When he gets to the bottom of the front steps, Buck is climbing out of the driver’s seat and opening the back hatch. He reaches out and lets his fingers brush against Eddie’s when he takes the suitcase from him, collapsing the handle and loading it in next to his suitcases. 

“Two bags, Buck? Really? We’re going for three days.” Eddie rolls his eyes, thinking about how much extra space is in his duffel, and Buck couldn’t even fit everything in the bigger suitcase. 

“It’s called options, Eddie. We don’t know what the weather will be like in San Diego.” 

“About the same as here. I looked at the forecast.” 

“Still, you never know. Besides, it’s not all clothes.” Buck slams the door down and walks back around the car. “Figured we’d need some snacks, and a day bag for the zoo.” 

“And you couldn’t have put the snacks in the day bag?” 

“I … didn’t think about that,” Buck confesses as he starts the Jeep and backs into the street. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches for one of the plastic cups in the console. He knows exactly why there are two, knows that his drink is always in the back cupholder. It's iced coffee, tastes like Buck used the fancy blend he keeps at home, probably made his own flavoring syrups too. 

Truly, if firefighting hadn’t worked out, he’d have made an excellent barista. As it is, Eddie will drink whatever concoctions he comes up with, grateful that Buck is with the 118 and was able to become part of his life. 

A huge part of his life, if he’s being honest, the biggest thing next to Christopher. Big enough that the three of them are taking a weekend drive down the coast and spending a couple of days touring San Diego together. 

He’d even let Chris talk him into leaving school early, starting the trip with lunch and being in the hotel room before dinnertime. 

Eddie thinks about all of this as he puts the cup down, his fingers sliding against Buck’s as he reaches for his own coffee. When he sets his back in the cupholder, Eddie’s hand is still resting there, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world when Buck slides his palm back until their fingers line up. 

Their hands fit perfectly together, and Eddie runs his thumb along the side of Buck’s hand as he preemptively mourns the next three days without this. 

He’s excited for their trip, maybe more excited than he’s been for anything in a long time, but he knows that there are lines in the sand that he and Buck haven’t talked about. They’re _something,_ for sure, the sort of something with nights out and quiet evenings at home and gentle, languid kisses laid out across his couch. They’ve slept together a few times, but whatever they are runs so much deeper than that. 

They just … haven’t put a name to it yet. Which means that they haven’t told anyone, even if Eddie is pretty sure that Bobby had picked up on it when he saw the way that Buck’s hand trailed across the lowest point on Eddie’s back, from hip to hip, as he’d walked behind Eddie the other day at the station. No one has said anything, but he caught the approving glint in his captain’s eye. 

But Chris doesn’t know yet, because Eddie doesn’t know what there is to tell him. And he sure doesn’t want the kid to find out by seeing something he shouldn’t when they’re all sharing a hotel room. 

So he can hold Buck’s hand until they get to the school, but then he’ll have to spend the next three days pretending like he’s not constantly itching to be closer than he is to his best friend. 

He tries to savor the contact as long as he can, but before he knows it, they’re pulling into the parking lot, and Buck is dragging Eddie’s hand up to kiss his knuckles before he lets go and unfastens his seatbelt. 

“Hey, he thinks you’re picking him up, right?” Eddie nods. “How about we kick things off with another surprise?” 

Buck opens his door and jogs up to the front entrance of the school. Eddie watches him ring the doorbell and disappear into the office, trying to ignore the way his stomach knots when he loses sight of Buck, of the last fringes of privacy they’ll have for three days. 

Then the door opens again, Buck holding it ajar so Chris can traipse through. Eddie can’t make out the words, but can see the look on his son’s face, how he’s already chattering happily about something. 

As soon as the back door of the Jeep opens, and Christopher is telling him about the diorama his class is working on for social studies, Eddie’s hesitation disappears. 

So what if he can't hold Buck’s hand this weekend? He gets to spend three whole days with his favorite guys, on the first real vacation he’s had since he moved to California. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

They eat lunch at a pizza place, Chris’ favorite little hole-in-the-wall. They use the most cheese, he reminds Eddie every time they walk in, pointing at the sign over the counter. 

Eddie can’t tell a difference between this and any other authentic local pizza, but he’ll acknowledge that it tastes better when he can see the way Chris grins at him from underneath a paper chef’s hat. It’s the first picture Eddie takes for their trip: cheese strings dripping from his son’s mouth as he smiles, Buck leaning over his shoulder like he’s going to steal a bite of the pizza slice in his hand. 

He hardly glances at the screen when it blinks, knows that however the picture turns out, being in the moment is a thousand times better. 

Five slices later, they’re piling back into the car and heading for the highway. It’s hardly been 10 minutes before Chris starts asking questions, mostly about what they’re going to do on the trip. 

When he exhausts himself of that, there’s a moment of silence. It might feel relieving, except how Eddie can feel the pensive air from the backseat. Chris is thinking about something, and it’s either going to be interesting or dangerous, depending on what he comes up with. 

“Bucky?” He finally asks, cocking his head as Eddie looks at his reflection in the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, Chris?” 

“Did you go on trips when you were little?” Eddie’s breath catches in his throat; he doesn’t know everything, but he does know that Buck’s childhood isn’t always his favorite thing to think about, and he can only hope that the question doesn’t bring back any tough memories. 

“Not all the time,” Buck starts, choosing his words carefully. “But every summer, we would drive a few hours away and spend a day or two at the beach. And when I got a little bit bigger, maybe a couple years older than you are now, Maddie would take me to go see our grandma sometimes.” 

“Oh.” For a second, it seems like he’s satisfied with the answer. “What did you do in the car? This is pretty boring.” 

Buck glances at Eddie, the words _your son_ written plainly across his face. Eddie rolls his eyes and tries to shrug subtly enough that Chris won’t notice. 

“Usually I went to sleep, since we left for the beach really early in the morning.” Christopher’s mouth falls open, and Eddie can practically hear the protest before it leaves his tongue. “But,” Buck presses on. “When I’d go with Maddie, we used to play all kinds of fun car games. You know the one I always liked best? It’s called First Letter, Last Letter.” 

“Can we play it? You’d have to teach me though. Dad, do you know it?” He doesn't leave any time for answers until every thought is out of his mouth, but Buck grins at his reflection. 

“Sure, we can. You look out the windows and find things you see, but whatever thing you say has to start with the last letter of the thing before it. Like I’ll say ‘car,’ and then whatever your dad finds has to start with an ‘R’. Make sense?” 

“Yeah!” Chris cheers, and Eddie nods. “OK, Dad, you have ‘R.’” 

“Hmm … how about ‘restaurant’?” 

“T! I see … a tire!” 

So the game goes: exit, toll road, detour, road, dump truck. Buck impresses Eddie when he comes up with ‘kilometer’ posted on a road sign, underneath the measurement for miles, and they pause briefly to explain the metric system to Christopher. Things pick back up where they left off, and they play until Christopher follows Eddie’s ‘Prius’ with ‘bathroom.’ 

“Kiddo, bathroom starts with a B, not an ‘S’,” Buck glances toward the back seat. 

“No, bathroom! I have to go!” 

“Buck, next exit. There was a sign for a rest stop. Chris, can you give us like five minutes to get stopped?” Eddie jumps into gear, shifting in his seat and pulling the seatbelt taut to look back at Chris. 

“Yeah, it’s not an emergency. Just really soon.” 

Eddie sizes him up, starting to jitter up and down in his seat, and prays that they’ll get to the next exit quickly. A quick look at the clock tells him that it’s been almost 40 minutes since lunch, and they _did_ let him refill his lemonade a second time, so he’s honestly impressed that Chris made it this far down the road. 

Finally, Buck is pulling off of the highway, parking right in front of the rest stop doors. 

“Eddie? You need to go while we’re here? I’m good.” Buck turns to look at him as he puts the Jeep in park. 

“Nah, but I could stand to get out and stretch. Ready, Chris?” Eddie lifts him down from the car seat and paces in front of the vending machines until Chris comes back out of the men’s room. 

“They didn’t have paper towels, Dad,” He complains. “But I used my pants, so it’s OK.” 

Eddie pats him on the shoulder, nodding his approval as they walk together back out to the parking lot. 

This time, they keep heading south, but trade out the game for I-Spy. 

Chris has just finished guessing the sign telling them that San Diego is just shy of 50 miles away (and asking how far it is in kilometers; Eddie floundered for an answer, trying to remember conversions and do the multiplication in his head, while Buck thought for only a second before he replied “more than 50, but we can look up the exact number later.”) when Eddie looks up. 

“I spy, with my little eye, a travel center. With bathrooms.” He looks over at Buck pressingly. 

“Dad! That’s not how you play! You gave us the answer!” 

“And I spy, with my little eye,” Buck winks at him across the console, “an exit ramp for that travel center. Chris, how about we grab a snack while your dad hits the john?” 

“John?” 

“It’s another word for bathroom.” 

“Oh! OK.” Chris nods agreeably, and not for the first time today, Eddie’s delighted by how well he and Buck get along, how readily Chris goes along with anything he says. 

This time, all three of them walk in together, Eddie immediately breaking off to find the restrooms while Buck and Chris peruse the fast food stalls lined up along one side of the space. When he comes back, they’re in line for soft pretzels, and Buck passes him a bright red slush. 

“He said you like cherry?” Buck nods at Chris and whispers to Eddie. 

“Sure do. Think it goes with the almond pretzel or the garlic?” 

Buck’s answer doesn’t matter though; they both know Eddie will order the cinnamon sugar, then complain when his fingers get sticky down the road. And Buck will roll his eyes, pop another tiny pretzel corn dog in his mouth and remind Eddie that it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been so set on having dessert on top of his pretzel. 

By the time this happens, Chris is nodding off in the backseat, trying to pretend he’s still paying attention. But his full belly and the steady bouncing of the car are no match for his acting skills, and Eddie knows his kid has yet to meet a car he won’t pass out in, no matter how old he gets. 

Eddie wonders briefly if he’d be able to get away with reaching for Buck’s hand now, but he remembers countless times when Chris has woken up and come in to sit on the edge of his bed, hardly making a sound. The odds of him waking up are just too high, until he’s able to talk to Buck, figure out what they’re doing and how they want to title it. 

So he wraps both hands around his cup and slurps at the last dregs of his slush until they’re pulling off of the highway and into the parking lot of a mid-range looking hotel. 

“Five-star accommodations,” Buck announces as he parks in front of the entrance. “At least, according to the reviews. Wake him up while I get keys?” 

Eddie nods and Buck drops the keys in his lap, shifting uncomfortably as he gets out of the car. 

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches back to jostle Chris’ knee as he watches Buck take off running to cover the short distance between the car and the door. Only then does he realize that Buck didn’t use the bathroom at either stop, but still bought the biggest size drinks he could. 

“Hey, kiddo, welcome to San Diego.” Eddie unfastens his seatbelt and steps out of the car, opening the back door to let Chris out of his seat. 

“We’re here? Since when?” 

“Since about 15 miles ago, bud. You fell asleep.” 

“Oh. Do I get to carry my backpack again?” 

“You can,” Eddie starts, opening the back hatch. “Or, you can leave the school stuff in the car and help carry the bag of snacks Buck packed.” 

Chris takes the grocery sack from his dad, peering down into it while Eddie gets the rest of the bags unloaded. He leads Chris into the lobby and gets him settled into one of the large chairs, then takes a luggage cart to get everything else in one trip. 

The Jeep chirps when he locks it, tucking Buck’s keys into his own pocket and steering the cart carefully back through the automatic doors. Buck and Chris are sitting together, smushed into the same chair, and Eddie snaps another picture of the two of them before they stand up. 

“317,” Buck announces, passing Eddie a plastic key card. 

“I got a key too, Dad! Bucky made me promise, but I'm not going to lose it!” 

Eddie smiles at him and lets Chris lead the way to the elevator. 

So far, he thinks while Chis jabs at the button for the third floor, this is shaping up to be one of the best weekends he’s had in a long time. Maybe ever. 

His quiet happiness lasts until they buzz into the room, pushing the door open to reveal a single king-sized bed centered along one wall. 

“Buck?” Eddie rolls his hands over the handle of the luggage cart, and tries not to snicker at how perfect Chris’ timing is when he drops the bag of snacks. 

“Where do I sleep?” He turns around to look up at Eddie, who’s still staring at Buck. 

“Hang on, I could swear I booked …" Buck is digging in his pocket for his phone, tapping furiously at the screen for his email app. “You know what? Let's just go back down to the lobby, see what the confusion is. I’m sure they can get it straightened out for us.” 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck tries to fix the booking error.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I work at a hotel and I've done this EXACT booking issue so many times. Be smarter than Buck; book direct. If you don't, be nice like Buck. We're working hard and it's not our fault that third parties lie to us about what you wanted.

“It looks like it’s always been a king room in our system,” the desk agent smiles at Buck, but Eddie can see the stress in her eyes as she tries to untangle the confusion. “I’m seeing a third-party reservation through … getaroom.com? Two adults, one child, three nights prepaid?” 

Eddie chokes on his own spit when she looks down at the screen and reads off the reservation details. 

“Yes, that’s all right. I’m just … there’s three of us. And one bed.” Buck scrolls down his confirmation email. “It says here that I booked a ‘two queen preferred with sofa sleeper.’” 

“Oh, so what that means is that you would prefer two queen beds. Unfortunately, those third party reservations will book whatever we have available, even if it’s not what they tell you you’re getting. I know it’s not helpful today, but it’s buried in their fine print.” She winces and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for Buck to respond. 

“So I … didn’t book queen beds?” 

“You booked a _preference_ for queen beds, but when we didn’t have any available, the third party made a reservation for a king room.” 

“Is there any way we can switch to two queens? If it costs more, that’s OK.” Buck drops his phone on the counter and reaches for his wallet. 

“Unfortunately not,” the agent winces, clicking furiously at the computer. “We are booked solid on those queen rooms all weekend, so I don’t have anything available I can move you to, at least for tonight. You could maybe try back in the morning, see if anyone cancels or doesn’t show up tonight, but I can’t make any promises. I can look and see if we have a blowup mattress in the storage room?” 

Buck looks over his shoulder, makes eye contact with Eddie. Eddie thinks for a second, trying to figure out where it would fit in the room, then shakes his head. 

“No, we’ll … figure something out. Thanks for offering, though. Have a good night.” Buck sighs and steps back, following Eddie over to where Christopher is looking at the rack of brochures for local attractions. 

“Getaroom.com?” Eddie hisses in his ear as they walk away. “Really? We’ve got a kid with us.” 

Buck has got to be the only person he knows who’d use a site literally called Get A Room for a family-style road trip. 

“Hey, they have the lowest rates! Especially if you call in to book." 

“How did you even know a site like that exists?” Eddie’s thinking about all of the ads he’s seen, all of the emails he’s gotten when he’s traveled places, and he can’t ever remember seeing one for anything called Get A Room. 

When he turns his head, Buck is blushing halfway up to his ears. 

“I’ve never needed two beds before,” he whispers back, without leaving time for Eddie to respond before he gets Christopher’s attention. “Hey, little dude! See anything cool?” 

He turns around, holding up a flyer for an arcade. 

“Can we play air hockey?” 

Buck and Eddie share another glance, and this time Eddie’s the one who answers. 

“Sure we can. How about we go put the luggage back upstairs and then we’ll go play for a while before dinner?” 

Chris seems wholly unfazed by the whole room-switch-that-wasn't, and when he asks again where he’s going to sleep, Buck rolls his eyes teasingly. 

“How about the bathtub? I bet we could throw a bunch of clothes in there, make it pretty comfy for you.” 

“Buck! I can’t sleep in the _bathtub!”_ He argues. “What if we get dirty and need to take baths?” 

“Fair point,” Buck holds both hands up and laughs. “We’ll figure it out before bedtime, I promise.” 

Chris shrugs at that, and brushes the whole incident off, in favor of asking Eddie if they’ll have a racecar game at this arcade, like the one he’s been to a couple of times at home. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never been here before. But I bet they’ll have lots of fun games for us to play.” Eddie lifts the last bag off of the cart and uses it to steer Buck and Chris back toward the hallway. “But we’ll never find out if we don’t get out the door.” 

They do have a racecar game, it turns out, and Buck buys enough tokens for Chris to entertain himself for almost an hour while he and Eddie face off at Skee-Ball nearby. It’s the one arcade game where they’re evenly matched, since Buck’s extra two inches give him the edge at the mini basketball hoop and Eddie’s military training puts him ahead at the squirt-gun shooting range. 

Between the two of them, they burn through a dozen tokens, stacking up a big pile of tickets at their feet. It’s almost an even split; Buck wins two games and Eddie wins four, but Buck blames one loss on an ill-timed sneeze that sunk his ball in the lowest point-value opening. 

When the tokens are gone, and Christopher has proven several times over that it’s neither easy nor safe to drive while you’re watching Skee-Ball games, all three of them pile into the photo booth and Eddie crams way too many one-dollar bills into the little slot to activate the camera. 

Three little photo strips later, they stop at a greasy spoon and order burgers, with as many fries as can fit on the table. Buck finds two of the longest shoestring potatoes and tucks them in the corners of his mouth, clapping his hands and doing what has to be the worst walrus impression that Eddie’s ever seen. Chris laughs so hard that Eddie has to pull his drink back from the edge of the table, lest his flailing hands knock it into their laps. 

Still, he has to admit that it’s the hardest he’s laughed in a while. Probably since the last time Buck did something so outrageous, never worried about what others might think of him. Eddie envies him that, every so often, constantly looking over his shoulder and waiting for he’s-not-sure-who to show up and critique him. 

But when he’s with Buck, he worries about it a little less. 

After dinner, they go back to the hotel, where no second bed has magically materialized since they left. Yet again, Eddie shares a look with Buck, managing an entire conversation without having to say anything out loud, and they reach the same decision pretty quickly. 

Teeth are brushed, jeans traded in for PJ pants, and all three of them pile onto the bed together. There’s really no other option, no room for an air mattress, and the two chairs at the tiny table wouldn’t be long enough for either grown man to stretch between them. 

Christopher curls up in the middle, already half-asleep from all the energy he’s spent on their adventures today. The sun is just barely set, but they’ve got an early start in the morning, and Buck and Eddie both know better than to turn down a couple of extra hours of sleep when they can get it. 

So they tuck themselves under the covers, Eddie curling around Christopher protectively as Buck reaches back to switch the lamp off. 

There’s just barely enough light coming through the curtains – light pollution in San Diego rivalling that of what he’s used to in LA – for Eddie to make out the edges of Buck’s form as he rolls over, trying to get comfortable. 

He ends up settling one of his broad hands across Christopher’s shoulders. The warmth of the touch makes Chris smile in his sleep, burrow under the covers a little closer to Buck. He wiggles around just enough that Eddie’s fingers bump against Buck’s, and he smiles too, looping his pinkie over Buck’s thumb. 

It’s almost too quiet for him to make out, but he’s pretty sure that Buck sighs into the darkness as sleep pulls all three of them under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Tuesday!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Zoo Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! Believe it or not, this chapter is even more domestic than the first two.

Eddie wakes up in the morning feeling more rested than he has in weeks. He tries not to think too hard about it, other than to acknowledge how nice it feels to know that he’s not the only person looking out these next couple of days. His guard isn’t down, but Buck is there, and Buck has his back, is looking out for Chris. And for Eddie, whether he knows it or not. 

But Eddie is pretty sure he does. 

Especially when he swings his legs over the side of the bed, toes scratching against the coarse hotel room carpeting, and Buck grins at him and passes him a cup of steaming coffee. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” 

He opens his mouth to respond, tries to put words together while he waits for the first sip of coffee to hit his bloodstream. But then the toilet flushes and it’s the only warning he gets before Christopher is barreling around the corner. 

“Dad! Bucky says I get to have waffles for breakfast!” He throws himself against Eddie, arms looping around his dad’s legs. 

“Really?” He looks at Buck, resting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Well we’d better get downstairs then, before they run out of batter.” Eddie wrestles with the sleeves of his zip-up hoodie and pulls the door open, leading the way down to the lobby. 

He fills a flimsy foam plate with scrambled eggs and sausage, leaves room for slice of toast and little jelly packets. He can see Buck out the corner of his eye, helping Chris pour the batter carefully into the waffle maker and flip it over. It warms his heart, watching someone else care about his kid as much as he does. Watching _Buck_ care, knowing that he’s already a perfect fit for their family. 

Buck glances over his shoulder, smiling at Eddie as he waits for his toast to drop off of the little conveyor. He hears the beep distantly, and Christopher’s excited chatter as Buck helps him retrieve the waffle and center it on his plate. 

He’s just reached for a plate of his own, hardly made it over to the serving dishes along the center of the wall, when Eddie hears Chris call after him. 

“Bucky, you can have a waffle too, just like me! I’ll help you make it!” 

Buck freezes, and Eddie can see the look on his face. He could absolutely turn it down, fill his plate with something more substantial, or maybe have a small waffle and something else. 

But he knows just as well as Buck does that he won’t do that; he was done for as soon as Chris opened his mouth. Someday, Eddie will teach Buck to tell Chris ‘no,’ sometimes, he thinks. But not today, when Buck turns around and tells Chris that a waffle sounds _great,_ and he would love some help pouring the batter. 

Today, Eddie will smile again, and again when Buck sits down with a plate that’s more whipped cream and sprinkles than it is waffle, and eats every last bite. He’ll wait for Christopher to get up and go to the bathroom to lean just a little bit closer to Buck, lift his own plate and knock a couple of sausage links onto Buck’s, not say anything when an extra fork appears in his periphery and starts stealing bites of his eggs. 

When everyone is finished eating, three empty plates stacked in the middle of the table, Eddie sees that Buck is still staring back toward the serving area. 

“Hey, Chris,” he stands up and walks around to rest both hands on the back of his son’s chair. “How about we head upstairs, start getting ready for the zoo? You know how long Buck takes; we gotta get a head start if we want a chance to use the mirror, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, Buck takes _forever.”_ Chris rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, and stands up. “C’mon, Dad, You can pick a shirt while I brush my teeth.” 

Eddie winks at Buck as they leave, jerking his head toward the serving dishes. He can’t be sure if Buck gets any more to eat, but he’s at least got the opportunity now. 

He and Christopher have just finished getting dressed (and rinsing the maple syrup stain out of Chris’ original shirt) when the lock clicks open and Buck comes through the door. He’s balancing three paper cups in one hand, carefully supporting the top of the stack with three fingers from his other hand, the plastic keycard pinched between the other two. 

Eddie steps around Chris to take the top two off of the stack, and Buck looks at him thoughtfully for a second. He’s getting ready to ask him if everything is OK, but Buck beats him to the punch. 

“Left hand is yours. Right hand is for Chris. It’s cocoa, not coffee. Yours is two creams and a sugar.” 

_Just the way he likes it. And Buck knew that, with enough certainty to mix it for him, not toss the packets down next to the cup, with a couple of extras just in case._

But Buck is still talking, so Eddie makes himself shake off the awestruck stupor and keep listening. 

“... figured you could use a little extra caffeine today, if we’re keeping up with him all day.” 

Buck says it like it’s nothing and takes a sip from his own drink – almost as much creamer as it is coffee, Eddie always teases, probably some ridiculously sweet flavor. 

Eddie wants to kiss him, wants to taste Buck’s excuse for coffee on his tongue, drink the flavor from his mouth, even if only for a second. His chest aches with how much he _wants,_ but he knows he can’t. Not with his kid standing three feet away and waiting for his cup of cocoa. 

Maybe someday, but not yet. 

Instead, he turns around and hands Chris the cup from his right hand and grins. 

“You’re probably right, especially if he’s all hopped up on sugar. You’re going to leave me and Buck in your dust, aren’t you?” 

“Only if you guys are _slow.”_ Chris rolls his eyes like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, and Eddie wonders when his 9-year-old sprouted into a teenager. But he only ruffles Chris’ hair and stands back up straight. 

“We’re about ready, Buck. Zoo opens in 40 minutes; think that’s enough time for you to be out the door?” 

“Ha, ha.” Buck rolls his eyes, and suddenly Eddie knows where Chris picked up the habit. “Yes, I’ll be ready. I won’t even need that much time.” 

37 minutes later, Eddie is flopped lengthwise across the bed, craning his neck and pretending to stare at his phone screen while he watches Buck comb through the front of his hair for what has to be the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes. But he’s stepping back now, sliding his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and pressing the button at the top. 

“Ha! Told you I’d be ready!” He had, Eddie has to admit. “Two minutes to spare.” 

Eddie sits up and bites back a snarky remark about how he still only needed half the time Buck did, and he was getting two people ready to go. Because he’d watched Buck get ready, seen him pull a shirt out of his bag and disappear into the alcove by the bathroom, but he’s only now really taking him in. His button-down fits so perfectly that Eddie wonders for a moment if he’d gotten it tailored, before he realizes that this a green this bright has no right to look as good on _anyone_ as it does on Buck. 

The words disappear from his mouth when Buck pulls the backpack from his suitcase, loads it with the snacks and bottled water he’d packed. He reaches for a little first aid kit, tucks it at the bottom of the bag too. 

“Just in case,” he says, when he notices that Eddie is watching him. “Chris is allergic to wasps, right? Nothing else?” 

“Nah, that’s it.” Eddie takes a sip of his coffee, letting the warm liquid refocus him and soothe away the sudden dryness in his mouth. “Thought you were ready to go?” 

“I am!” Buck zips the bag triumphantly and slings both straps over one shoulder. “Chris, you ready, little man?” 

“Yeah!” He’s on his feet in an instant, all but tripping over himself to get out the door. Eddie pats his pockets for his keys and wallet, and follows them out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him. 

The hotel room, and its one big bed, are the furthest thing from Eddie’s mind all day, while he’s following Christopher and Buck around the zoo, admiring the animals almost as much as he’s marveling at what his life has become over these last 18 months. 

Then they’re stepping back off of the elevator, Chris having long since abandoned his 9-year-old independence in the face of tired feet and sunburnt forearms. Buck had hoisted him down from the car seat, but he’d refused to put his feet down, wrapped them around Buck’s middle and burrowed his face sleepily against the side of his neck. 

Buck hadn’t even flinched, just straightened his back and adjusted his grip as he walked across the parking lot. They’d had a full day, and if the adults are tired, they both know that Chris must be exhausted. 

Eddie brings up the rear, arms laden with souvenirs, from stuffed animals to keychains to a trio of matching shark tooth necklaces that Chris had insisted they just _needed._

(Not that Eddie had put up much of a fight, what with the way it had made him feel like he had a whole little family, something bigger than just him and his son, together against the world.) 

When they get to the room, Buck shifts Chris to one side as he fumbles for his wallet and flips it open, holding it out for Eddie to retrieve the key card without having to set everything down. He steps in close to reach, and Buck groans into the space between them. 

“Man, how come nobody ever offers to carry me like this when I get tired? I don’t want to walk after I’ve been out all day either.” But he runs his free hand down Chris’ back as Eddie pushes the door open, so he knows there’s no malice in it. 

“Because if you carry Chris, and I carry you, then who carries Larry the Lion?” Eddie drops the armful of treasures, pointing at a large stuffed animal with an unruly mane. “Or the T-shirts? Or the dinosaur backscratcher? Or the-” 

“I get it, I get it,” Buck cuts him off as he sits Chris carefully in the middle of the bed. As soon as he’s laid down, Chris rolls over and pushes his face into a pillow, trying to block out the light. It’s adorable, and Eddie can’t resist the urge to pull out his phone and take a picture while Buck continues. “I might have gone a little overboard. But what was I supposed to do? Just let him suffer all afternoon because he picked a souvenir right away?” 

Buck looks genuinely confused at the idea of not doing everything he can to make sure that Chris is happy all the time. Eddie gets it; the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, maybe in his life, was learning not to give in to Chris’ every whim, especially during the years he wasn’t able to be around as much. He remembers overcompensating during the months he was at home, buying all the ice cream and LEGO kits he could fit in his old truck, trying to make sure his son had happy memories with him. 

But he’d eventually learned to find a middle ground, and he knows Buck can too, with a little bit of guidance. 

“Or, you tell him to think it over and pick one thing at the end of the day.” Eddie’s shoes are off now, and he’s sitting on the end of the bed, pulling Christopher toward him. “I’ll get his PJs on.” He prods Chris just enough that he’s awake and standing up in front of him. “Arms up, kiddo. C’mon, you’ll be way comfier this way.” 

“Good.” As soon as Christopher is standing, Buck sits on the edge of the desk chair long enough to unlace his sneakers, then pulls his jeans off, trading them for a pair of sweats. He takes two steps and flops dramatically onto the middle of the mattress. “I’m done, man. Beat. Down for the night.” 

Eddie chuckles as he helps Chris step into his dinosaur-printed PJs and takes his glasses, steering him toward one side of the bed. He doesn’t seem to notice the change, just scrambles over the side and tucks himself underneath the covers. By the time he’s squirmed around enough to be settled, his head is pushed up against Buck’s arm, the bedspread shoved down awkwardly so his face is free, even though Buck is still lying on top of it. 

Eddie seems to be the only one left with enough energy to check the locks on the door and brush his teeth before putting on his own pajamas and jostling Buck’s shoulder lightly. 

“C’mon, up. Just long enough I can pull the blankets back. I won’t have your ass shivering at 3 a.m. when you’re lying on top of a perfectly good set of sheets.” 

Buck doesn’t roll out of bed, but he lifts his hips up enough that Eddie can work the bedding down to his knees, then bends his legs up and lets him drape the sheets and blankets over both of them as he lays down. 

The lamp clicks off and Eddie turns over. There’s plenty of room in the bed, no reason he needs to slide closer to the middle. But Eddie tells himself that he doesn’t want to roll over in the middle of the night and fall out of bed, even though that hasn’t happened to him as far back as he can remember. 

There’s a first time for everything, and he doesn’t want it to be tonight, so he shifts over and presses himself against Buck’s side. The TV is playing in the background, the local news station Eddie had put on so he could see a forecast before he falls asleep, but he knows he’s the only one paying attention to it. And frankly, he’s hardly paying attention himself, just listening to hear if they’ll be looking at rain tomorrow or not, especially once his head is propped up against Buck’s shoulder and he’s draped one of his legs over Buck’s calf. 

“I’d carry you, Buck,” he whispers into the darkness, close enough that he can feel his own breath warm between them, hopes that it hasn’t been long enough for him to have forgotten what he’d said back in the hallway. 

“I know.” His voice is thick with the edges of sleep, but Eddie can still make out the words as he yawns and lets his fingers rest on Buck’s forearm, the broadcast noises blurring into nothing as he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Show of hands, who's gotten cavities from this?


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck, Chris and Eddie spend a day at the USS Midway and the pier, then come back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thought this was domestic so far? Babes, you haven't seen anything yet.

When Buck wakes up, the first thing he notices is that he’s warm. Too warm, if he’s being honest, and a little sticky with a thin layer of sweat, like he might need to take a quick shower to scrub off before breakfast. He wonders if the air conditioning had gone out overnight, or if he should try to find the thermometer from his first aid kit. 

Then he opens his eyes, and he knows right away where the extra degrees are coming from, along with the pressure in his chest. 

Chris is lying halfway on top of him, his curly hair tickling Buck’s chin as he breathes. His arms are sprawled up Buck’s shoulders and he’s snoring loudly. 

No, he’s not, Buck realizes a moment later. Chris is nearly silent as he sleeps. _Eddie_ is snoring loudly. Buck can feel his breathing, the air puffing out of his mouth and against Buck’s elbow. He turns his head gently and looks down, just far enough to see the way that Eddie’s face is smushed up against his bicep. It’s probably blocking his airway, almost definitely the reason he’s snoring so loudly, but Buck can’t find it in himself to roll Eddie over. 

He’s comfortable now, not worried about overheating anymore. There's happiness blooming in his chest, making him even warmer, but bringing him more comfort than he’s known in ages. He can’t see the clock, but the sun has risen, is shining through the curtains enough to dull the brightness of the TV screen, flickering with the morning news. 

He squints, waiting for the sleep to clear from his eyes, and sees that it’s just after 9 a.m., and there’s a reporter standing outside of a half-charred apartment building. He watches the story, wonders idly what caused it and if the fire department here works as well together as the 118 does. 

No matter how well they’d done, he’s sure they don’t have the same dynamic, the family-more-than-coworkers feeling Buck has come to love over the last few years. He thinks about where he is now, lying in a hotel bed four hours from home, with his best friend and the kid he thinks of as practically his own, and no, he’s pretty sure no other fire department has this. 

The news plays on, fluffy community interest stories interspersed with local crimes and tragedies, carefully engineered to leave the locals with at least a modicum of faith in their city, no matter what story comes next. Buck watches along, for lack of anything else to do, and brings his hand up to rest across Chris’ back, like it had the night before. 

He’s not sure how long he plans to let them sleep, but Buck isn’t ready to wake them up yet, isn’t ready to let go of this closeness, how they both migrated closer to him, trapping them in their lives, as if they’d ever had to do anything more than just ask him to come along. 

But before long, Chris sniffles, almost knocks the top of his head into Buck’s jaw as he sits up. On instinct, Buck pulls his hand up to cushion the blow for them both; the sudden motion jostles Eddie enough that he groans and sits up as well, supporting his weight on his elbows. 

His hair is a mess, flattened on one side where it’s been pushed against Buck’s arm, and he’s blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he groans blearily. 

“Wha’?” 

“Morning, sunshine.” Buck laughs when Eddie sticks his tongue out. “Everything’s fine, little man just tried to headbutt me, but it’s OK. I think I can forgive him, just this once.” He’s still teasing when he reaches down to ruffle Chris’ hair. 

“OK,” Eddie’s not quite fully aware of what’s going on, but he puts his feet on the floor and stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “Chris? What’s the plan today?” 

“WAFFLES!” He throws both arms up over his head and waves them around, still sitting next to Buck on the mattress. 

It leaves him the perfect opportunity to reach around and dig his fingers into Chris’ sides, wiggling them back and forth while he squeals. 

“Waffles? Or tickles?” Buck steers Chris across his lap, keeps him from falling off of the bed as he squirms around under the ruthless touch. 

“Bucky! Stop! No, stop!” He’s trying to push Buck’s hands away, but he can’t keep up with the attack. “Don’t! I have to pee!” 

At that, Buck lets go instantly, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Alright, OK, you said the magic words. Don't want to create any emergencies today.” He helps Chris off of the bed and watches him take off for the bathroom. 

Eddie’s just gotten the coffee pot started, the earliest trickles echoing off of the little carafe while he leans against the table and smiles at Buck. It’s not an expression he can quite place, other than to say that Eddie looks content, in the kind of quiet way Buck isn’t used to seeing. It’s not exuberance, nothing with that much energy, considering that he hasn’t had any coffee yet and has hardly been awake for 10 minutes, but a sort of happiness that Buck thinks might go beyond just this morning, might speak to something bigger than a weekend trip to San Diego. 

He likes this side of Eddie, how he seems at peace with his world, just as it is in this moment. 

The three of them dress quietly today, moving easily around one another, until they’re standing side-by-side in the elevator. Eddie carries the backpack, holding the handle in one hand and Chris’ shoulder in the other, the sort of fatherly gesture that had felt completely foreign to Buck before he’d met Chris and found them coming naturally to him as well. 

Today, Buck gets a full breakfast, a plate piled high with perfectly round fried eggs, bacon strips and fresh fruit. He holds a muffin in his other hand, balanced on top of a cup of juice. He’s just started eating when Eddie leads Chris to the table, carrying a full plate of his own, and another thoroughly topped waffle for Chris. 

Eddie sits the plates down and makes sure Chris is situated with silverware and a thick stack of extra napkins, then disappears again, muttering something about more coffee. Buck tears a bite from his muffin and watches Chris try to find the edge of his waffle beneath the thick cloud of whipped cream on top. They laugh together when he pulls the knife back too quickly and splatters the foam across his glasses. 

“What’s so funny?” Eddie slides a cup of coffee in front of Buck as he sits down, rolling his eyes and reaching over with a napkin to help Chris clean his face off. 

Buck looks down into the cup, sees that the coffee inside is hardly darker than his own skin. Sure, he likes a quite a bit of cream, to cut the bitterness of the beans, but this has to be at least half milk. Still, Eddie made it for him, so he takes a cautious sip, surprised to find that it’s not chilled from the amount of cream in it. 

It’s way sweeter than Buck usually takes his coffee, but Eddie had remembered that he takes cream and sugar. The gesture is the part that counts, right? So he keeps sipping, stomachs the entire cup with the decision that it’s far more palatable if he thinks of it as coffee-flavored milk than if he tries to actually call it coffee. 

Actually, as coffee-flavored milk, it’s not bad at all, and Buck finds himself thinking that he might try it again sometime in the future. 

Not today, though. Today, he needs actual coffee, so he makes his own second cup, pops a lid on top so Eddie won’t notice how much darker this one is. 

When they’re finished eating, they realize that they haven’t made any plans for today, beyond spending the evening on the boardwalk. 

It's hardly 10 a.m., so the whole day is spread out in front of them, their opportunities practically endless as they approach the brochure rack together. Buck has no idea what they’ll end up picking, but he doesn’t really care, so long as he gets to spend the day with Eddie and Chris. 

So when Chris picks up a pamphlet with a large battleship on the front and asks if they can go see the USS Midway, Buck looks at Eddie and shrugs. 

“You sure, bud? We could go to the science center, check out some dinosaurs.” Buck glances at the brochure Eddie’s holding, and he has to admit that it looks way more hands-on and child-friendly than a naval ship. 

“But Dad! I’ve seen dinosaurs in museums before! I’ve never _seen_ a battleship!” 

Buck has to admit, he’s got a point. 

“C’mon, Eds, the kid wants to see a ship, let’s take him to see the ship.” 

So off they go, piling into the Jeep while Eddie pulls up directions for the pier. Chris is bouncing on his toes from the minute he’s out of the car, grabbing eagerly at the set of loaner headphones the docent hands him for the audio tour. Together, they work through every station, listening to a tinny voice reading the facts and filling out the little information sheet until they’ve reached the end of the exhibit. Eddie and Buck both reach for their phones, snapping pictures when Chris is presented with a plastic pair of pilots’ wings. 

This time, Buck remembers what Eddie had said yesterday, and limits Chris to one toy and a T-shirt in the gift shop, so there’s only one bag for him to carry back to the Jeep. He passes the little plush tiger up to the back seat, watches Chris carefully drag the seatbelt across the seat beside him and smiles at what a gentle kid his boyfriend has raised. 

They’re done in time to grab a late lunch – sub sandwiches, at Chris’ suggestion, like the submarines the Midway worked with during Vietnam – and spend a couple of hours at a children’s museum before they head down to the pier. By the time he’s finished visiting every exhibit, climbing all over whatever the signs say he can, and pointing everything else out to Buck and Eddie, Chris is starting to slow down, running out of energy. But he still insists on going to the boardwalk, so they swing by a drive thru on the way, fill him up with chicken nuggets and fries in a successful attempt to perk him back up for the evening. 

Buck hoists him down from the car seat, has just hardly steadied him on his feet before he’s trying to take off. Eddie calls after him though, and he freezes halfway across the parking lot. 

“You know you’ve got to walk with me and Buck,” he admonishes gently as they catch up, the Jeep beeping behind them as Buck locks it. He gets a hand on Chris’ shoulder, urging him forward. Together, they buy three ride passes and set off for the little amusement park. The sun is just setting, the lights on the rides glowing in the air and reflecting off the water. They pile into an ice cream cone-shaped tilt-a-whirl car, knock into each other with bumper cars, and roll around and around on a spinning roller coaster track. 

Once they’ve made it through most of the rides, Chris drags them to a sno-cone stand, where Buck doesn’t even try to bring himself to say ‘no.’ He buys one for each of them, carrying the treats over to a picnic table and sitting them down carefully. The inevitable sugar rush will be worth it for the look on Chris’ face and the new stack of images on Buck’s camera roll. His favorite, by far, is all three of them, cups almost empty and tongues brightly colored with the sticky flavoring syrups; red, blue and green. 

He’s pretty sure that lock screens are supposed to be vertical pictures, but they couldn’t fit everyone in the frame without turning his phone sideways, and he’s willing to abandon social norms if it means he can look at the picture every time he picks up his phone. 

When the cups are thrown away, and they start walking again, Buck steers their tiny troupe toward the candy store and holds a $20 bill up for Chris to see. His smile and his eyes go wide in unison as he starts hurrying around the store, looking at everything there is to choose from. A few minutes later, they’re exiting again, and Buck is carrying a plastic bag of gummies and a half-empty tube of flavored sugar powder almost as long as his arm. 

The other half of the sugar, Chris had funneled into his mouth as soon as Eddie handed him the tube. Buck is pretty sure they’re going to regret it, even if it’s hard to imagine why when Chris grins at him again and starts skipping happily down the boardwalk. 

Eddie points at the Ferris wheel, but Buck shakes his head and pulls out his phone for the third or fourth time since they arrived, swiping it open to the weather app. He knows that there aren’t “perfect conditions” for another storm, can see that the ocean is right where it should be, but something still twists in his stomach every time he’s standing on a dock. He tries to hide it, tilts the screen away from where Eddie is standing next to him, Chris on his other side. 

But Eddie sees anyway. Or he must, Buck figures, because the next thing he knows, their hands are brushing together, Eddie squeezing his fingers firmly and pulling him toward the midway games. 

They drain the cash from their wallets, passing it all into the carnies in exchange for darts and rubber balls and BB gun pellets. Buck, as always, is great at darts, countless nights of experience at the bar after work coming to his advantage. And Eddie wonders if he set the course record on the shooting range, his score nearly perfect after he figures out which direction the barrel is tipped off-balance. Buck is pretty sure the game is supposed to be rigged, but he watches the way Eddie tilts the pistol, testing the feel of it in his hands. He misses the first shot by a few inches, lands the second one just shy of center and pings the rest of his rounds off of the small metal target, one right after the other. 

When the game operator hands him a little stuffed monkey, Velcro holding its arms and legs together, he passes it to Buck. 

“Hey, hang on to this for me? We’ve got plenty of stuffed toys at home, never seen any at your place.” 

The words shouldn’t rattle around his chest like they do, but he knows what Eddie had meant, can imagine what he might have said if Chris hadn’t been standing right there. Eddie won the toy for him, and call him a sap, but he’s seen enough made-for-TV movies to know what that means. 

It drains all the anxiety from his chest, any worries about massive waves quelled in the face of how secure he feels with a tie-dyed monkey looped around his neck as the night winds down. 

The throngs of people are dissipating, rides at the end of the pier are shutting down as they subtly try to move everyone back toward dry land until tomorrow. There’s just enough time for them to go for one last round on the tilt-a-whirl, all three of them stumbling a little bit as they walk around the block back to where the Jeep is parked. 

Chris polishes off his candy on the ride back to the hotel, and even though it’s close to 9 p.m., he’s bouncing up and down when they get back to the hotel room, he’s immediately turning to stare at Eddie. 

“Dad! Dad, can we go to the pool? We haven’t gotten to swim _at all_ since we got here, and I love the pool, Dad, please?” 

Eddie looks at Buck, like he’s thinking it over, then winks when Chris isn’t looking. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure, kiddo. I don’t even know if Buck brought his trunks …" 

“Bucky, did you? Did you?” Chris turns around so fast that Buck is worried he’s going to knock something over, almost stumbling in his effort to clear the space between them. 

“I’d have to check, but I think they _might_ be in my bag. If they are, I _guess_ we can go to the pool for a little while.” Buck plays along, reaching slowly for his suitcase and digging around until he pulls out a bright blue bathing suit. “Looks like you’re in luck.” 

Chris cheers, and the next few minutes are a flurry of changing clothes before they’re back in the elevator and headed for the lobby. Eddie walks down the steps with Chris, and they both laugh when Buck takes the opportunity to head straight for the deep end and leap in, splashing water up high around him as he attempts a poorly formed cannonball. His knees knock against the bottom, but it’s not enough to hurt, and he swims below the surface until he can pop up just inches away from Chris. 

“Boo!” He shakes the water from his hair as Chris shrieks in delight, and grabs him by the waist to pull him out toward the deeper water. They’re maybe out as far as his hips, only a few feet deep, when he turns around and looks at Eddie. “Hey, catch!” 

He pushes his arms out, shoves Chris through the water toward his dad. Eddie catches him and pushes him back to Buck. Back and forth they go, over and over again until it’s time for the pool to close. Buck can’t speak for Eddie, but his own arms are beginning to get tired, the repetitive motions straining his muscles, and Chris is splashing around less with every push. 

So they fish him out, towel off and rub Chris’ hair dry before wrapping him up and returning to the room. He’s yawning, leaning against Eddie’s hip in the elevator and Buck’s legs while they open the door. But as soon as they’re in the room, he surprises Buck by dumping the towel around his shoulders into a heap on the floor and taking charge. 

“Dad, it’s your turn to sleep in the middle,” he orders as he pushes his hands through the sleeves of his PJs. 

“What’s that?” Eddie spits toothpaste foam into the sink and looks up, too tired to focus on more than one thing at a time right now. 

“You’re in the middle, Dad. Bucky and I had a turn, but you didn’t.” Buck chuckles at how matter of fact Chris sounds, toeing his socks off and watching Eddie pull a clean shirt over his head. 

“Mmm, OK.” Buck can tell that Eddie is worn to a frazzle, too tired to even pretend to put up a fight, or even really go along willingly. It sounds like he’s mostly taking the directions from his son for lack of energy to do anything else. 

He drops onto one edge of the mattress and rolls over, settling on his back in the center of the bed with a grunt. Chris tucks himself along Eddie’s side, burying his face against his arm, and Buck is stricken for a moment by how much it reminds him of how he’d woken up with Eddie’s nose digging into his own skin just this morning. It feels so much longer ago than it was, everything they’d seen and done standing between this moment and that memory, but Buck can still recall how it had felt in perfect and vivid detail as he lays down on Eddie’s other side. 

Buck gropes blindly along the nightstand until he finds the lamp and the room goes black. 

“Dad?” Chris whispers into the darkness. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can we just use the big bed at home too? I like this.” 

“Mmm,” it’s not an agreement, but the noise buys Eddie a few seconds to find the words to answer. “Not every night. Maybe as a special treat.” 

“Like when we have sleepovers with Buck? Like this?” 

Buck feels his heart swell at the way Chris automatically includes him in the family, assumes that he’ll be spending the night often enough that he can leverage it into an excuse for something special. 

“Maybe,” Eddie mumbles. “You’d have to ask him.” 

“Sure, if you want.” Buck is surprised by how sleepy his own voice sounds, even as his brain is still firing on all cylinders. 

“Only if you close your eyes and go to sleep now,” Eddie tacks on, shifting around until he’s comfortable again. 

“OK,” Chris whispers, then goes quiet. But a moment later, his voice fills the room again. “Dad?” 

“What?” There’s a hint of frustration in Eddie’s voice now, but it’s dulled by how exhausted he sounds. 

“Will you rub my back?” He sounds just as tired as Buck feels – and he’s sure Eddie is right up there with him -- and it’s such a simple, innocent request that Buck can’t even pretend to be surprised when Eddie sighs and flips over to his stomach. Buck feels him lean up to his elbow, can hear the quiet rustle of his hand against the material of Chris’ pajamas. 

But his eyes are just enough adjusted to the dark that he can see the tension coiled under Eddie’s shoulders. So he reaches out with his own hand and rests it against Eddie’s back. He flinches at the contact, but relaxes when Buck moves his palm in a gentle circle, then another and another. Buck matches his movements with Eddie’s, drawing careful shapes into his skin until Eddie turns his head to look over his shoulder at Buck. 

Buck can hardly make out his features, but nonetheless he knows exactly what the expression must look like. It’s like he can _feel_ the warning coming off of Eddie’s skin, radiating into his hand. 

“Shh,” Buck whispers, quietly enough that he knows Chris won’t be able to hear, if he’s even still awake. “You can get me next, once he’s asleep.” 

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop Buck from moving his hand again, and a minute or so later, Buck feels his shoulders shift and a hand drop against his own back. 

The motions are clumsy, Eddie’s sleep-addled limbs trying their best to cooperate with him. Still, it’s comforting to Buck, even when Eddie’s hand stops moving and he can hear the snoring begin. Buck leaves his own hand where it is, resting on Eddie’s shoulder blade as he closes his eyes and focuses on the weight of Eddie’s fingers tethering him to the reality of his presence as he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pier was probably my favorite part of this to write. I'm so soft for that entire scene.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last morning of the trip!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Enjoy!

When Buck wakes up, the first thing he notices is that Eddie’s hand is still stretched out across the middle of his back. The second thing he notices is that he can feel Eddie’s chin pressing against the middle of his browbone. 

It’s nice, familiar in a way he’s not entirely used to yet, but he hardly gets any time at all to drink it in before there’s a loud, childish laugh from the other side of the bed. 

“Dad!” Chris howls as he sits up. The sunlight through the curtains is bright enough that Buck can see his blurry outline from the corner of his eye. “You’re kissing Bucky’s head!” 

At that, Eddie’s lips twitch against Buck’s skin, like he’s waking up and registering his position for the first time. For all Buck knows, he might be, but even so he moves slowly once he’s conscious of it, rolling over and sitting up just far enough to drop a loud, smacking kiss against Chris’ forehead. 

“There, now you guys are even.” 

“What about you?” Chris hesitates for a second, then moves quickly, bouncing the mattress under his weight. “Wait! I know!” Buck hears the noise as Chris presumably kisses Eddie’s head, a quiet _oof_ as the bed moves some more, but he can’t yet be bothered to sit up and investigate any further. 

Then Chris’ face is looming in front of his, just inches away, his lips puckered as far toward the center of his face as they’ll go. He pecks Buck on the forehead, lips warm and wet, like he’s just licked them. If it were anyone other than Chris, Buck is pretty sure he’d have wiped the saliva from his skin, but he can’t do that now, not with how Chris is grinning at him as he sits back up. 

“OK, Buck, it’s your turn to kiss Dad!” 

_On the forehead. It’s his turn to kiss Eddie on the forehead,_ Buck reminds himself as he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. _No matter what you’ve done before today,_ _Chris_ _is here now and the game today is forehead kisses. Save the rest of it for later, no matter how nice i_ _t is to kiss Eddie while he’s still waking up in the morning._

He focuses carefully on pressing his lips to the top of Eddie’s face, an inch or so above his eyebrow. Eddie returns the gesture and Chris climbs down from the bed, satisfied that everyone has gotten an equal share of affection to start the day. 

As soon as the bathroom door closes, Eddie is nudging his hand carefully. 

“Hey, Buck.” Buck turns his head to look, and Eddie tips his chin up to run his mouth gently across Buck’s. It’s hardly any contact, just barely a kiss, but it’s the most wonderful thing Buck has felt in a while, especially when Eddie pulls back and does it a second time, a little more firmly, before he rolls away and stands up. 

Buck watches him dress quickly, folding his sleep clothes into neat rectangles and dropping them back into his duffel before he pulls the zipper. He needs to get up too, he knows, especially if he wants to get breakfast, so he makes himself stand, stretches until his limbs don’t feel so sleepy anymore and reaches into his suitcase for a clean shirt. 

There are three left to choose from, options right down to the last day of the trip, and he settles for a worn-in tee, knowing that most of their day is going to be spend in the car heading back to LA. Everything he’d brought with him fits neatly into one suitcase, just like he’d told Eddie it would, except the backpack, which he can carry separately. The larger bag starts out empty, but by the time he’s finished packing up the souvenirs they’ve accumulated over the last few days, it’s so full that he’s got to lean most of his body weight into it before the zipper will close. 

Still, it doesn’t take long for Buck to have all three of his bags sitting by the door, next to Eddie’s duffle and Chris’ tiny suitcase. They check through the sheets and under the edges of the bed one last time, making sure there aren’t any rogue socks or stuffed animals hiding in the covers before they head down for breakfast. The bags stay in the room, an excuse to come back upstairs quickly before they hit the road, spend a few more minutes in the quiet happiness of their vacation. 

Before Buck knows it, all too quickly, there are three empty plates stacked in the middle of the table, sticky syrup droplets wiped away before anyone can get their fingers smeared in the mess. They take a luggage cart back upstairs, rotate everyone in and out of the bathroom while they load it with their bags, and pile back into the elevator. With the cart and bags, there’s much less room for the three of them, but Buck isn’t complaining, because it gives him an excuse to let his fingers “accidentally” brush against Eddie’s thigh as he slips past him when they reach the ground floor again. 

He approaches the desk, listening to the _click-clack_ of the wheels across the lobby floor as Eddie and Chris push the cart through the automatic doors and out toward the Jeep. He’s got both key cards, knows that Eddie has the car keys as he drops the little paper envelope on the desk. 

“Hey, I’m checking out of 317. Should be under ‘Buckley.’” It’s a different person at the desk, a more ornate nametag that Buck figures might mean he’s talking to a manager. He doesn’t say anything about the issues at check-in, doesn’t want to cause a fuss, especially not when things worked out so well for something that started as a mistake on his part. Still, she looks up and smiles broadly at him. 

“Right here. And I just wanted to apologize again for the confusion with your room when you arrived the other night. Really, it’s not something we see often, but occasionally something slips by us in the system. I hope everything was handled to your satisfaction?” 

“Yeah, it, uh, it was.” Buck smiles back at her and nods. “Everyone’s been great, really. Top-notch staff you’ve got here. And it … it worked out just fine.” His face must give him away, from the way the manager’s expression softens, like she’s relieved that he’s not going to complain again and cause a scene. 

He takes the receipt when she passes it to him, and a little card with a survey link, promising to give her and the entire team a good review. And he means it; everyone was polite, even through the mix-up, and he’s not going to critique them for something that’s his own fault. 

He wishes her a good day and turns around, ducking back toward the breakfast area to fill two more coffee cups for himself and Eddie to have in the car. He thinks about getting a hot cocoa for Chris again, but remembers that they’ll probably have to stop two or three times on the way back as it is and decides that he doesn’t need anything else to drink right now. 

When he turns back for the main lobby, Eddie is standing next to one of the chairs, one hand in his pocket while he watches Buck cross the space between them. He takes the cup Buck offers with his free hand, sipping it carefully to gauge the temperature. 

“Sorry again about the bed mix-up.” Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder, sees Chris outside, crouched down over the flowerbed and poking at rocks. He’s not watching, so Buck reaches forward and settles his hand low on Eddie’s side, slipping his fingers between Eddie’s wrist and his hipbone. There’s an almost imperceptible shift, as Eddie leans into the touch and smiles. 

“Hey, it’s not what we’d planned, but I’ll never complain about waking up in bed with you.” 

“Yeah?” Buck grins at him. 

“Yeah.” Eddie leans forward and kisses his mouth lightly. It’s more of a kiss than they’d snuck in the room earlier, but hardly enough to satisfy Buck’s desires, so when Eddie leans back, he leans forward again and steals another. 

“Hey,” Eddie turns his head after the second kiss, looking through the doors to where Chris is completely oblivious to what’s going on. “You know, we could wake up together more often if …" 

He trails off, and Buck raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure he knows what Eddie is offering, but doesn’t want to make any untoward assumptions. 

“You think we should talk to him tonight?” 

“If you’re OK with it,” Eddie trails off, suddenly hesitant, like he’s worried about pushing Buck too far. “This isn’t just about me.” 

Buck lets his fingers tighten on Eddie’s side for a brief second, a tiny squeeze to reassure him. 

“Whatever we need to do to get me back in your bed every night.” He leans forward, close enough that Eddie can feel the heat between them, but careful to leave enough distance that they’re not acting inappropriately for the public setting. “Besides, he already loves me.” 

Eddie laughs at that, and Buck lets go of his hip and steps back. They fall into step almost as soon as they’re walking, perfectly in sync without even trying, just like they’ve been since practically the day they met. 

Chris looks up when the door opens, grinning ear to ear as he shows Buck the cool rocks he’s picked up. They settle on one, and Eddie leads him to the car. As soon as they’re turned away, Buck bends down and picks another one, slipping it into his own pocket. 

He’s not sure what he’ll do with it, but it feels like the right thing to do, something he can keep without anyone noticing, a tiny reminder of what’s sure to be the most memorable part of their trip. 

After all, he’s pretty sure the next time he books a single king bed to travel with Eddie, it won’t be an accident. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* Hard to believe it's over, isn't it? Fear not, though, I've got lots of fun stuff coming up soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Planning for updates on Tuesday and Friday. Until then, I'm going on three days with no thermostat, so comments and kudos will keep me warm/cool until we figure out what the deal is.


End file.
